


The Black Pearl

by Dallas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Azkaban, F/M, Implied Incest, Mental Breakdown, Psychological Torture, Sexual Content, Sibling Incest, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-03-19
Updated: 2012-03-28
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:32:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dallas/pseuds/Dallas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellatrix Lestrange's desperate need to have a child leads her into the ever consuming darkness of insanity. As she races towards her ultimate demise, with Voldemort's faith in her fading fast, she is forced to question everything she has dedicated her life to fighting for. The descent into madness is a dark and twisted one, but what if you discovered it had been forced upon you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Last Lestrange

**Author's Note:**

> This has been posted on my livejournal and fanfiction.net, now I'm starting to post it here in hopes to get back into the feel of it and continue writing. It's alternate universe following the life of Bellatrix Lestrange beginning a few years before her incarceration.

A sharp crack pierced through the silence that filled the old Lestrange Manor. For a moment there was nothing else aside from the occasional groans accustomed to older houses which, due to the silence, sounded a great deal louder than they ought to be. Standing in the centre of the entrance hall, Narcissa hesitated. She wasn't sure what to do. It had taken her long enough to get away from her appointment, part of her worried that they'd taken her sister somewhere else and not informed her. But there was nowhere they could take her. Death Eaters were starting to be named in the Prophet and she was sure it wouldn't be long until Aurors gathered enough proof to accuse Bellatrix. It wasn't as if she had tried to hide her behaviour.

In an instant the hush that hung in the air was flooded with an ear-splitting scream. Narcissa moved swiftly, lifting the front of her dress as she took to the stairs. The painful cry continued, sounding eerily like someone being tortured. She followed the harsh screams as they began to subside - heading straight towards the grand double doors, the doors she knew led to the master bedroom. Before she reached them, however, she was treated to the sight of them bursting open as the body of Rodolphus flew out into the corridor. She stepped to the side quickly, narrowly avoiding being bowled over by the much larger figure.

Rodolphus groaned as he pushed himself up, stretching his back as he did so. He bent his head to one side and then the other, causing a soft crack to ease his neck. Noticing his sister in law standing not far from where he landed he shrugged. “Second time she's done that,” he admitted as she held out her hands to help him up. “I've heard it could be worse.”

“She hasn't set you on fire yet?” Narcissa asked, a small smirk on her lips.

“No,” there was an air of anxiety in the way he chuckled. He motioned for her to follow him back towards the bedroom. “Though she managed to torch the curtains early on, the first two hours were far from being tedious.”

She stopped in her tracks, overwhelmed with the strong urge to either throw up or faint. “The first two hours? How long has this been going on?” the colour began to slowly drain from her face, she looked absolutely horrified. It seemed the mere knowledge that it could last any longer than that was making her rethink her desperate attempts to have a child.

Somewhat amused by her reaction he pulled out his pocket watch and flipped it open. “We're moving into the fifth hour...” he quickly grabbed her arm as he noticed her pale considerably. “Stay with me, Narcissa, Bella needs you in there.”

“I don't think...” she was interrupted as another tortured cry erupted from the bedroom.

“Narcissa,” he spoke harshly, trying to get her to come to her senses. He understood that she was still relatively young but surely she could grasp the concept that her sister needed her now more than ever. He pulled her towards him slightly in an attempt to get her to move. “My child is coming into this world and my wife is going through hell convinced that it won't survive. You need to be in there with her, she won't listen to me and she needs someone she trusts to tell her this will be alright.” He pulled gently on her arm again causing her to stumble beyond him towards the open doors.

Another scream made her quickly move backwards again, stopped only by her brother in law as he half dragged her to the bedroom. She wasn't ready to see a child being born. A lady liked to be prepared for such things - instead she was being thrown in the deep end. She had no clue what she was supposed to do. There was no possible way she could provide any support for her sister when she clearly didn't know the first thing about...

“Rodolphus!”

The deep cry assaulted Narcissa's ears as she found herself standing in her sister's bedroom. Instantly her eyes were on the bed as Rodolphus left her side and returned to his wife. Her heart beat violently within her chest as she looked at her older sibling propped up on the bed with her legs bent and a Healer seemingly studying her womanhood intently. It slowly dawned on Narcissa what she was looking at and she quickly averted her eyes, feeling a hot flush covering her cheeks.

The elder of the Black sisters had more important things on her mind than propriety. She breathed heavily as her hands gripped the covers of the bed, her eyes on nothing but her husband as he swiftly returned to her side. “I'm sorry...” she breathed out as the pain began to subside. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean it...”

“I know, love,” he whispered as he ran his hand up and down her taut arm.

“No, no, Rodolphus...” she shook her head quickly but whatever she was trying so desperately to say to him was cut off. A guttural moan filled the room as another nauseating wave of pain hit her, her whole body tensing until finally the contraction subsided.

“This is it, Mrs Lestrange,” the Healer suddenly spoke, her hands on both her patients' knees. “With the next contraction I need you to start pushing.”

With her eyes tightly shut and her lower lip quivering slightly, Bellatrix nodded her head firmly. All she wanted to do was lay, cuddling one of her pillows, and cry until there was no water left inside her. Anything would have been better than this. She definitely would have had more confidence doing anything else. The problem was she knew how badly it could potentially end, she was well aware of the stakes.

“You can do this,” Rodolphus whispered against her ear before moving to press a firm kiss against her temple.

She nodded again quickly, trying to focus on what was about to happen rather than anything else. As her muscles began to tense involuntarily she clenched her fists, her nails almost digging through the bedding to reach her own flesh. It was really going to happen. In that split second she wasn't sure if she was more scared of losing another child or finally bearing a healthy one.

Narcissa watched, her eyes wide, as her sister started trying to push the baby out. Her face was going an unnatural dark red, her barely covered skin was glistened with a fine layer of sweat, and she was getting bodily fluids all over a rather expensive set of towels. She covered her mouth with her hand, feeling an extremely strong urge to throw up. As her sister steadily became vocal again, she turned her back on the view. She really, really, did not want to see what was happening.

Collapsing against the pillows, Bellatrix tried to catch her breath. She felt a cold cloth being pressed to her forehead but she couldn't find the strength to open her eyes and find out who was behind it. Not that she needed to. She could smell who it was. She could smell her husband's familiar musky scent. The Healer said something about a head but she wasn't listening, she didn't care. As her breath continued to come and go in short bursts, she focused on everything that was naturally calming about having her husband sitting beside her. His scent, his hands, his lips... It was sweeping through her again, the pain. It burnt her muscles as though they were being smothered with hot coals. This time she cried. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she cried through clenched teeth.

When it was finally over she forced herself to open her eyes. “I don't want to do this anymore,” she barely managed to whisper. It was beginning to gradually drain the life out of her, she wasn't sure she could even find the strength to continue.

“A little longer, my love,” Rodolphus told her softly, brushing her curls away from her face. “We've waited almost ten years. A few more minutes won't seem long at all.”

“I can't do this again,” she looked into his eyes, choosing that moment to speak honestly with him about their whole situation. Her dark eyes expressed the pain and sadness she was feeling deep down. “No matter what, Rodolphus, I cannot do this again.”

He tilted her head to face him and kissed her lips tenderly. “It's alright, Belle, I understand,” he assured her. He couldn't bear the thought of putting her through it all again any more than she could bear actually doing it. If it meant they didn't have more children he could live with that - if it meant they didn't have any he would learn to live with it.

Before she could say any more she was pushing again, the Healer and her husband spurring her on. The pain was almost unbearable. It seemed worse than it had four years earlier, which only served to further convince her that it would not end well at all. She screamed out all her anger and frustration. Everything she was feeling, every piece of her heart and soul, was vocalised to become the most heartbreaking sound filling the large room and echoing down the corridor.

And then there was silence.

Bellatrix fell back against the pillows exhausted, her pale skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. Every muscle in her body screamed for rest but her eyes followed the Healer like a hawk hunting its prey. After clenching her fists for so long it took some effort to let go of the bed spread and reach for her husband as he began to move from her side. “Don't...” it was all she could manage to say in that moment, the only word she could use to express her fear. Her eyes followed the bundle wrapped in the towel as the Healer turned away and transfigured an armchair into a small table. She wasn't sure what was happening, or why it was so quiet. All she knew was that her husband was gradually gravitating away from her and she couldn't handle whatever was coming on her own.

“I'm not going far, love, I'll be back before you know it,” he promised her quietly, leaning towards her again to kiss her lips. He gently removed her hand from his wrist and placed it back down on the bed, pushing himself away from her in one fluid motion and heading towards the Healer.

She waited in the silence, her heart pounding painfully against her chest. It was starting to become clear to her that she'd been right all along. When it came to having children she was simply defective. The fact that she'd managed to carry a baby to term was a miracle in itself, she'd been far too thin from beginning to end. It certainly wouldn't have helped the baby's development. In fact she knew it hadn't, she'd been told on five separate occasions. So she waited for the moment she could finally give up all hope. She waited for Rodolphus to turn back to her with that familiar haunted look in his eyes. She closed her eyes and waited to be told her baby was dead.

The bed dipped and a strong smell of orchids indicated that Narcissa had decided to join her. She refused to open her eyes. If she kept them closed then she wouldn't have to face reality, she wouldn't have to give in.

“Bella, are you alright?” Narcissa's voice was soft and hesitant, she was wary of upsetting her sister. She recognised her sister was at her most vulnerable. If Aurors arrived in that moment to cart them off she was sure Bellatrix would just let them take her. “Bella, are you...”

She slowly shook her head, if only to silence her little sister, her eyes remaining firmly shut. She could feel Narcissa's hand taking hers, holding it supportively. Not that it made a difference. 'This is it,' she thought to herself. 'I'm done. No more.' As much as she wanted a child she couldn't deal with it any more. At first falling pregnant had been so exciting, of course they were young and had only just married then, and the pain of miscarrying had been great. Yet in time it gave way to hope. It was easy to convince their selves that they could try again, that there was still the prospect of carrying on the Lestrange name. But by the third time, when she was forced to deliver a stillborn foetus, she hadn't wanted that ridiculous sense of optimism to linger any more. Four years later and she was in the same predicament. Only this time she hadn't dared to hope in the first place. She gave in to the lectures about staying in bed and relaxing, but she made no effort to prepare for the baby's arrival.

Why should she? All her children died eventually.

The bed dipped again and Rodolphus leant over her, kissing her closed eyelids. “Everything's alright, my love,” his voice spoke softly, coaxing her from the darkness. “Look at me.”

In that instance she finally opened her eyes, finding him staring down at her with a childish grin on his face. She wondered how he could smile in the face of death, her brain not quite up to speed with what was happening. “I'm so tired,” she breathed out as he caressed the side of her face.

“You were amazing,” he whispered against her ear, pride evident in his voice. “That was amazing.”

“You should try it from my position,” she muttered sarcastically, though too tired for her tone to sound anything but playful. She tried hard to push herself up but between her weak muscles and both her husband and sister holding her down she had no luck. “I want to see...”

“Rest a moment, Bella,” he said softly.

“Rodolphus,” she turned her head to look at him, her glare lost somewhere between vacant and firm. “I want to see. I saw the last one so I fail to comprehend how this would be any different.”

“Belle...” Rodolphus frowned, realising why she was acting so nonchalant about what had just happened. He looked to Narcissa and nodded his head towards the Healer, silently asking her to bring the baby to them. “It's not like last time, Bella. The baby survived.”

She looked away from him, trying to understand what he was telling her. Everything in her mind was hazy. She could only see one truth and it was the one she had convinced herself of so resolutely over the past four months. “I don't understand...” she told him honestly as she tried to navigate through the fog.

“Bellatrix Lestrange,” he grinned again, looking more childish and less noble than ever before. He ran his hands up and down her arms soothingly. “You just gave birth to the most beautiful baby girl. She's small but she's healthy and, Bella, she's perfect. You're perfect.” It hadn't occurred to him that she would assume the child hadn't made it. He wasn't sure how she'd missed the crying that had been happening for the past few minutes, though he supposed his wife wasn't exactly in her right mind. Every time they'd talked about the baby during her pregnancy she had been hesitant to plan anything. He knew that deep down she had lived every day since she found out terrified of suffering another miscarriage. Even down to the fact that she'd expected something had gone drastically wrong when her water broke.

Slowly a smile began to spread across her lips, her dark eyes lighting up in a way they hadn't done for years. “A baby girl...” she said softly. A new surge of energy swept through her at the thought. She had a daughter.

“A baby girl,” he repeated, just to be sure the message was sinking in.

“You're not disappointed she's a girl?” she asked suddenly, her tone changing in a flash. Some tiny part of her suggested that even though she had finally had the child they'd dreamed of she had still failed as a wife. After all she knew very well that it was a male heir that most pureblood families insisted on. Only the very old families still valued females highly in their line.

Rodolphus tilted her face towards his allowing himself the pleasure of kissing her lips once, then twice, and a third time for good measure. “How could I possibly be disappointed? Wait till you see her,” he kissed her once more, enjoying the familiar taste of her lips and the way her smile widened each time he pulled back. Though his attention was diverted as her eyes moved to Narcissa moving towards their bed, or rather the small life cradled in her arms. He helped his wife sit up a little more, trying his best to make her more comfortable. “Come now, love, see a beauty to rival all but your own!” he declared with boyish enthusiasm as Narcissa leant forward to lay the child in her mother's waiting arms. Rodolphus watched both his girls with deep fascination evident in his eyes. The sight was such a wonder. No words could truly express the joy he was feeling at seeing his wife holding their newborn daughter.

“Promise me this is not a dream,” Bella whispered as she stared down at the baby in awe. Holding the child close to her with one arm she let her fingers trail over the little girl's face. “I don't think I could survive waking up from this.”

His heart almost broke at the tone of her voice. She was his everything - he hated to hear her so apprehensive. “It's not a dream,” he assured her, his softly spoken words sending shivers down her spine.

At his words she dared to believe it. All at once she let out a breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding, and she leant down to kiss her daughter's head. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and you're mine,” she whispered against the child's soft skin, nothing but sincerity in her expression. Hesitantly she traced her finger over her daughter's nose and lips, admiring the adorable tiny features that still managed to look so familiar. “She has your nose.”

“I think she looks like you,” Rodolphus responded quietly, reaching out brush his fingers through the thick black hair on his daughter's head.

Narcissa sat back with a bright smile on her face, seeing the whole process in a new light as she watched her sister's reactions closely. “Are you willing to name her now?” she asked curiously. It had been the one thing she'd wanted to know from the moment she knew Bella was pregnant.

A cheeky grin appeared as Bella glanced at Rodolphus.

“Anything you want,” he promised her as his blue eyes met her brown.

She'd verbally cursed at anything or anyone who suggested such a thing for months. But now that she held her perfectly healthy baby girl she could name her without hesitation. “Cassiopeia,” she said quietly.

“Cassiopeia Lestrange,” Rodolphus addressed his daughter seriously. “May you grow up with your mother's strength and determination...”

“And your father's good looks and charming disposition,” Bellatrix cut in.

“And your Aunt's fashion sense,” Narcissa added, smirking as her sister raised an eyebrow.

“If I could move without pain or the risk of falling asleep, I would kick your arse right now,” the elder of the two Black sisters warned.

“No fighting in front of my daughter,” Rodolphus told them both firmly, his eyes remaining on the small child he could call his own. “There's plenty of time for her to learn the ways of the Black women, but for now she is my little girl - sweet and innocent.”

“Darling,” Bellatrix pressed her free hand against his cheek and looked at him with pity. “If that's what you were looking for, you shouldn't have married me.” She punctuated her statement with a slight slap to his cheek and smiled brightly as he began to laugh.

Their good spirits, however, did not last long.


	2. Mother Knows Best

" _...Yet do I fear thy nature,_  
It is too full o' th' milk of human kindness  
To catch the nearest way."  
\- Lady Macbeth, 'Macbeth'

  
Within minutes of the successful birth Kreacher apparated in the dimly lit lounge of Grimauld Place. Neither of the two women taking tea so much as flinched at the intrusion, they had long since grown accustomed to the comings and goings of House Elves. Rubbing his little hands together eagerly, Kreacher hobbled forward and lowered his head respectfully. He stood silently, waiting to be acknowledged. However neither woman directed their attention to him, both taking the time to finish their tea, they were well aware he would stand there for months on end if they wished it.  
  
Eventually the fine china cup was lowered to its matching saucer. Long slender fingers slid from the handle and the set was replaced delicately on the tea tray. With a heavy sigh, as though being pulled away from something terribly important, Druella folded her hands in her lap and turned to look at the head of the family House Elves with her usual air of disdain. “Well?” she prompted, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised.  
  
“Kreacher did as Mistress Druella asked,” he rasped, inching closer to the dangerous blonde. “Kreacher returned with news of an heir. A healthy girl, she is. Just like Miss Bellatrix, she is. Good strong Black. Not like that filthy dirty blood traitor and her muddy changeling...”  
  
“Be quiet!” Druella demanded, disgusted at the mere mention of the abomination that had spawned from her traitorous second child. She almost seemed to snarl like a lioness about to devour a trapped wildebeest. Then all of a sudden she rose above it, focusing on the news that she had received. A baby had survived. Maybe one of her daughters was good for something after all. “So a successful heir has finally resulted from the Black-Lestrange union. Female, at that. Cygnus would have rejoiced.” She seemed to consider her last words for a moment, as if taking the time to reflect on her now deceased husband.  
  
Her pause led her companion, and sister in marriage, to speak up. “My brother did prefer matrilineal primogeniture to the more common agnatic system,” Walburga reasoned as she sipped her tea. Her dark eyes flowed along the lines of the Black family tree that adorned the walls around them. “Like our father before him. You were aware of this when you married dear Tripp, Druella, and proceeded to bear him three girls of your own...”  
  
“A disappointment, a disgrace, and a delusional dreamer,” Druella responded in an icy tone. Her low tolerance for her daughters had always been clear, particularly to them.  
  
“Not such a disappointment after all?” Walburga offered with a smirk. As the last Black of her generation she took great pride in her two nieces, despite Druella's concerns. After all they were the future of the Black family. Unlike her sons - one missing and one long since dead in her eyes.  
  
“We shall see,” came the dark response from the new Grandmother. She did not appreciate being questioned, particularly when the questions were posed by her smug sister in law. Yet there were other more pressing concerns on her mind, such as her eldest daughter's state of mind. Bellatrix, in her opinion, had always been a few cups short of a tea party. Sure the girl could fake her way through any social engagement, she understood what it meant to be a Black, but she had a nasty habit of being predictably unpredictable at the best of times. While she had remained steadfast in her conviction that her child would not live, she now had a reason to be happy and a chance to be a mother. Druella did not like the thought of that one bit.  
  
She leaned forward and beckoned Kreacher closer, a devilish smile on her lips. “Tell me, Kreacher, what say you of my daughter's disposition? How does she receive the child?” she knew that to get what she wanted out of the mangy rodent she would have to play nice, as much as it disgusted her. So she spoke sweetly to the House Elf, listened intently as though she hung off every word he said.  
  
“Miss Bellatrix, she cries. She fears what has come to pass,” he told her, stating exactly what he saw. As he continued he did not recognise the wicked gleam in the woman's eyes or the way it seemed to diminish rapidly as he spoke again. “But Master Rodolphus, he tells her the baby lives. He shows her. This pleases Miss Bellatrix. This pleases Kreacher. A new heir to the most noble House of Black. A new Mistress.”  
  
A chill settled in the room and Druella scowled. Her daughter was a promising Death Eater, the most loyal to the Dark Lord by far. Surely a child could not charm her so. “It is high time I visit my daughter and witness this new addition for myself,” she stated as she stood abruptly. “You have been most helpful, Kreacher.”  
  
“Kreacher lives to serve the noble House of Black,” the Elf rasped as he bowed low to the floor, taking that as his cue to leave.  
  
“Wait a moment,” Walburga stopped him. “Have they chosen a name for the child?” she was eager to get to work on the family tapestry. It had been some time since she added someone.  
  
“Miss Bellatrix names the girl Cassiopeia,” Kreacher told her. “Cassiopeia Lestrange.”  
  
At the mention of the child's name, Druella's eyes darkened considerably. If ever there was a time to fear the Black matriarch it was that moment. She was right to be worried. “Do not hasten to alter the tapestry, Walburga,” she growled at her sister in law, summoning her cloak in one swift movement and fastening it around her neck. “With Bellatrix's track record, we wouldn't want to get ahead of ourselves if the child weren't to survive the night.” With a sharp flick of her wrists she pulled her hood up over her head and disapparated without another word.

  
*******   


  
It had been a long time since Rodolphus had last heard his wife laugh. At least since he'd heard her truly laugh in good humour. The laugh he had become accustomed to was sadistic and taunting, directed only at victims that dared defy the Dark Lord. But as he watched admire their newborn daughter he heard that melodious sound once more and couldn't help but grin. Not one to miss such an opportunity, he had summoned his camera as soon as Narcissa had left them alone and had already taken far too many photos of his wife and daughter. A few littered the end of the bed where he sat, about to take another photo. They varied between Bellatrix looking at Cassiopeia, kissing her, and holding up her hand to stop him from taking more photos. She looked tired, worn out, and had told him as much. But at the same time she seemed to glow. After so many months - so many years - she was relaxed and peaceful. Happiness seemed to radiate from within her.  
  
“I honestly will break that camera,” Bellatrix warned half-heartedly as she glanced up at her husband. Just as she looked up the flash went off again and she laughed as he shot a cheeky grin at her. “No doubt I look hideous in all of those photos.”  
  
Rodolphus set the camera aside and crawled up the bed to sit beside her. “Now that would be impossible, love,” he assured her, pressing a kiss to her temple as he wrapped his arm around her. His hand came to rest against hers cupping their daughter's small face. She looked so beautiful, they both did, one complimenting the other. He wasn't sure he would ever get over just how lucky he was to have such a beautiful family.  
  
Ever so gently Bellatrix ran her thumb down her daughter's nose until it rested against her lips. Her smile widened as Cassiopeia began to suck eagerly, not really aware of anything beyond having something to suck on. While, unlike earlier, she was not rewarded with milk her lips and tongue continued their rapid movement regardless. “She is a wonder,” Bella whispered as she watched her daughter. Every little movement Cassiopeia made was precious to her. From the way her tiny lips moved to the way her whole body seemed to shake with the effort of simply inhaling. Tearing her eyes away, she looked at Rodolphus and kissed his lips softly. “Thank you...”  
  
“You're the one who put in the hard work,” he pointed out with a small shake of his head.  
  
“But if you hadn't have forced me to rest these past few months...” she rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, thinking of how little she had cared for her own well-being let alone their child's. “We could have lost her too. Thank you for not letting me destroy this. I love you, so very much.”  
  
“I love you, Belle...” he kissed her firmly, relishing the taste of her lips.  
  
Cassiopeia began to squirm, her little body tensing as her mouth tried to find the thumb that had pulled away from her. As her parents returned their attention to her and her mother's thumb was at her disposal once more she settled again. Her tiny fingers flexing happily as she sucked.  
  
“Already she's not happy to see her parents kissing,” Bellatrix said with a smile.  
  
“Good,” Rodolphus responded, pretending to be serious. “And she shouldn't like kissing until she's at least... twenty-five.” He nodded sharply as if putting an end to the discussion.  
  
“Twenty-five?” Bellatrix scoffed. “You were doing a lot more than kissing some years before your twenty-fifth birthday, darling. Or are you an imposter who has taken my husband's place for the past three years?”  
  
“Surely an imposter would not fool you,” he smirked and rested his head back against the bed.  
  
“Ah,” with a mischevious smile Bellatrix shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe I prefer you to my husband.”  
  
Rodolphus chuckled and shook his head as he moved to stand up. “If you weren't holding my daughter I would make you pay for that,” he told her as he collected the photos on the bed.  
  
“Where are you...” before she could finish her question Bellatrix yawned.  
  
“I'm going to find somewhere to put these while you and the Princess sleep,” he responded with a laugh, leaning over the bed to kiss her again. “And if you try telling me you're not tired, I will slip a sleeping draught into your food.”  
  
As she was about to argue her point, a sharp crack sounded throughout the house. The little colour that remained in Bellatrix's cheeks drained away in an instant. “Please tell me you haven't notified her already,” she said quickly, adjusting her position on the bed so she could sit a little straighter.  
  
“I swear to you I haven't told a soul,” he promised her. They could hear the sharp click of heeled boots on the staircase, heading straight for their bedroom. It could only be one person and neither of them wanted to see her.  
  
Appearing in the doorway in no time at all Druella Black stood regally, assessing the scene before her. Despite having apparated into the manor and waltzed up the stairs with no regard for etiquette she seemed as though she was waiting for an invitation to enter the room. “I see there is cause for celebration,” she said as she stepped through the door, no longer waiting for either of them to say a word.  
  
“Mother,” Bellatrix pushed herself up into a sitting position, holding Cassiopeia a little tighter. Lying around when her mother was in the room was not an option - she'd learnt that as a child. One of the many social 'customs' she was conditioned to obey as she grew up. “We weren't expecting you so soon.” She offered as some form of explanation for not sending word of their daughter's birth. They'd wanted at least a day before they were forced into all the niceties.  
  
“Clearly,” Druella muttered, the disdain in her voice more than apparent as her eyes surveyed the bedroom. “I trust you'll be on your feet soon, or at least moving downstairs. It's not at all proper to be receiving guests in your bedroom.”  
  
Bellatrix's eyes widened and she looked at her husband as she struggled to hold her tongue. She felt a desperate need to point out that there was no guest to greet. Surely her mother wasn't one as she had simply gone ahead and invited herself to the Manor, not at all appropriate behaviour.  
  
As Rodolphus gathered his photos and his camera, he smiled brightly. “I was just on my way to have the House Elves prepare the sitting room for her,” he informed his mother in law with a confident air. He knew she wouldn't dare question the man of the house, she held too much respect for a patriarchal system. “If you'll excuse me a moment...”  
  
The expression on Bellatrix's face turned from shock to pure dread. As her mother looked for a place to sit she silently begged Rodolphus not to leave her. No good could come of being left alone in a room with Druella Black. Much to her dismay he paid no attention to her and she was left to fend for herself.  
  
Not finding the armchair at all comfortable, and in no mood to transfigure herself a chair, Druella stood in the centre of the room and turned to look at her daughter once more. Her eyes fell to the bundle in her arms, the little hand she could see clutching at Bellatrix's finger. “A child at last, Bellatrix, you must be...” she cringed slightly as if the word she was about to say was by far the most vulgar in the English language. “...happy.”  
  
“Of course, Mother,” she tried her best not to react to her mother's insensitive nature. But then, for the moment, she was too thrilled with the present to dwell in the past. A smile broke out before she could stop herself. “Would you like to hold your granddaughter?” she asked, as though it would fix everything.  
  
Druella arched an eyebrow and moved around to the side of the bed, being sure to remain at a safe distance. “I shall observe her,” she stated simply. “Harbouring such childish notions, Bellatrix, it's just another infant. There is no need for foolishness.”  
  
“But surely...”  
  
“Show her to me,” Druella ordered, cutting off her daughter. She had no interest in menial conversation. She was there to determine the best course of action for her family. That was all. As Bellatrix turned the baby to face her, she studied the small features. She could certainly see the Lestrange influence in the girl already, but more importantly she recognised the baby was the spitting image of her eldest daughter as a newborn. No doubt she would be just as much trouble too. “She must have the Lestrange disposition you were not as easily placated as an infant. In appearance she's certainly more like you. With any luck she will grow out of that, develop the olive complexion and finer features of her father. But then, these things can't be helped.”  
  
Wrapping her daughter back in her warm embrace, Bellatrix looked absolutely horrified. “There is nothing wrong with her appearance. Or mine, for that matter,” she looked down at Cassiopeia and smiled proudly at the thought that they looked so alike. Completely oblivious to her mother's reaction, she allowed herself a moment to fall hopelessly in love with her daughter once more. “She is a gorgeous baby and she shall grow to be a beautiful young woman.” There was an air of confidence in her voice she hadn't had before.  
  
Talking about her daughter seemed to produce a light in her that Druella had never seen before. She was far from accustomed to seeing her daughter happy, and it wasn't something she particularly enjoyed. Her daughter was one of the finest duellists in the Wizarding World, hard of heart and yet melting over a child.  
  
“No.”  
  
Bellatrix looked up at her mother with a frown as the harsh word was suddenly uttered. Confusion was clear in her expression as she glared at her mother. “What do you mean 'no'?” she asked curiously, already wary of where the conversation would lead.  
  
“This won't do,” Druella said simply.  
  
Instinctively Bellatrix held her daughter closer. If there was one thing that managed to strike fear into the very depths of her heart, it was Druella Black, and in that moment as she looked at her mother Bellatrix was terrified. “I don't understand...” she began but was swiftly cut off.  
  
“You are the heir to the Black family, Bellatrix, and you are welcomed openly at the Dark Lord's table,” she moved closer to the bed for the first time, her usually bright blue eyes appearing dark grey like clouds in an oncoming storm. “You have the potential for greatness. A woman of your stature could rule at the Dark Lord's side in times to come. I will not have anything stand in your way.”  
  
With great effort Bellatrix pushed herself across the bed away from her mother, desperate to protect her daughter. “RODOLPHUS!” She cried out, not daring to take her eyes off her mother for a second. As her heart began to race Cassiopeia stirred, the sudden change in her mother's heart rate unsettling her. “This is my life, Mother. You cannot just waltz in and take it away!”  
  
“This maternal 'instinct' doesn't suit you at all, child. Look at you, cowering and calling for a man to assist you, already you are affected - damaged by this unfortunate event...” Druella drew her wand just as Rodolphus ran into the room. She turned on him as he drew his own wand, aware her daughter didn't have the strength to go anywhere. “I will do what is right for my family, and cursed be those who try to stop me.”  
  
Rodolphus kept his wand trained on his mother in law as he inched towards his wife. He knew the price he would pay if he dared to look away from her for one moment. “Bellatrix is no longer your concern. She is my wife, the mother of my child. This is my family and I will protect them,” he warned the old witch.  
  
“You would be nothing if we had not allowed you to marry our daughter...”  
  
“Do not speak for my Father,” Bellatrix growled as she felt Rodolphus move to stand behind her. As long as he was with her everything would be fine.  
  
Druella stood to her full height, her hand placed firmly on her hip. “Of course, we wouldn't want to upset the Little Star,” she spat out the childish nickname her late husband had bestowed on their eldest child. Her eyes flicked quickly between her daughter and son in law, waiting for one of them to strike. “You cannot hope to raise this child and maintain the reputation you have worked so hard to achieve.”  
  
“I will do what I like, you have no say in the matter,” Bellatrix argued, beginning to reclaim her former self in front of her mother. “I am no longer a child, and I certainly have not been _your_ child for a long time. What I do with my life is not your concern.”  
  
“You will have no life with _that_ attached to your breast,” her mother argued, pointing her wand towards the baby. “Children do nothing but suck the life out of you until there is nothing left to call your own. You will never be a truly powerful witch again. You'll be nothing but a common housewife, answering to your husband and your child before yourself. No self respecting witch could want such a thing.”  
  
“I WANT IT!” Bellatrix screamed, causing Cassiopeia's little limbs to jerk violently in her arms. For the first time in her life she was freely admitting to herself and her family the one thing she wanted more than anything else. She would gladly give up everything she had just to have her daughter, she'd wanted nothing else for far too long. “I want this life. I want this family. It's what I've always wanted. If you harboured any shred of human decency or even the capacity to be anything other than a neglectful mother, you would know that.”  
  
Without warning Druella flicked her wrist, summoning the baby to her before either of the child's parents could stop her. As Cassiopeia was pulled from her mother's arms she began to cry, as if begging her mother to take her back and keep her warm. She flew across the room into Druella's waiting arms, yet her cries did not stop.  
  
Rodolphus moved as if to strike only to be stopped moments before he uttered a single curse. His wife screamed and grabbed his wand arm, forcing him to lower his weapon. “Bellatrix...”  
  
“One wrong move and you'll hit our daughter,” Bellatrix warned him, her fear evident in her eyes.  
  
“Unhand my daughter, Druella,” Rodolphus snarled.  
  
“This child will bring this family nothing but harm,” Druella backed towards the door, holding her wand out ready to curse the first person who tried to stop her. “My daughter is destined for greatness. You, Rodolphus Lestrange, you keep her from it. This concept of family, a home, she didn't dare think such stupidity until you came along. Bellatrix Black is good for one thing and one thing only, she knows how to duel. The Dark Lord needs her, without her we have lost the war and it will be on your head. This child leads her from her true path and I will not have a daughter of mine ruined by a mere infant!” she pointed her wand at the baby in her arms, eliciting a sharp scream from her daughter.  
  
“No, Druella, don't...” Rodolphus moved quickly around the bed, trying to think of some way to save his newborn daughter without causing her any harm.  
  
“Bellatrix has no business being a mother, this is for the greater good...”  
  
“Let me take the child,” he said quickly before he even knew what he was saying. As his mother in law turned her attention to him, he went with the first thing that came to mind. “Killing the child in front of Bellatrix will only turn her against you, possibly against the Dark Lord. Let me take the child far away, let me be the one to bury this burden.”  
  
As Druella appeared to consider his offer Bellatrix pushed herself across the bed, the pain in her abdomen excruciating. “Rodolphus, no... please, no...” she had no idea what was happening, but she wanted her daughter. She couldn't trust anyone to keep her daughter safe, she needed the baby back in her arms.  
  
“Let me take the child, Mother,” Rodolphus continued, reaching out his arms. “There's no need for you to belittle yourself with such a task. Stay and insure Bellatrix heals. She's going to need a great deal of rest before she can return to the Dark Lord's side.”  
  
As the baby continued to scream, grating on her nerves, Druella stepped towards him and handed the baby over. “One wrong move, Lestrange, and neither of you will leave this room alive,” she warned him as he cradled the baby in his arms.  
  
“Not one,” he responded simply, barely reacting to his daughter's crying.  
  
“Be done with it then,” she muttered, waving her hand to be sure he knew he was dismissed.  
  
“NO!” Bellatrix screamed. “RODOLPHUS!” she tried to get up to stop him, tried desperately to follow him, but all she managed to do was fall to the ground. Her body was too weak, too riddled with pain, to do anything more. Vaguely she registered Narcissa calling her name, but all she could focus on was her husband. She struggled to follow him, dragging her body across the floor and crying out. “Rodolphus, please, don't take her,” as Rodolphus disappeared out the door with their daughter she screamed with all her might. “My baby, you can't have her, my beautiful. She's mine! You can't take my baby!” her nails scraped across the floorboards as she tried to keep moving.  
  
A slim black boot stepped in front of the distraught witch, momentarily halting her movement. “This is for your own good, darling,” Druella told her daughter, any emotion she felt absent in her tone.  
  
Bellatrix continued to scream, slamming her fists down hard on the floor like a child throwing a tantrum. She screamed for her husband to come back but there was no point. Each cry only infuriated her mother further. Still she screamed, she screamed with every ounce of breath left in her body, and she would scream until there was none left. She wanted her daughter back, she wanted her child.  
  
Reacting to her eldest daughter with nothing but a raised eyebrow, Druella held her wand out over the body sprawled at her feet. “Crucio!” her wand moved swiftly through the air, the spell hitting the target instantly.  
  
The weakened body twisted violently on the floor, Bellatrix had neither the strength or will to resist it. Pain erupted through her body, every nerve was on fire, and as the curse was lifted she couldn't help but scream once more. Every inch of her body burned but it was nothing compared to the pain of her heart shattering in her chest. Defying her mother she kept screaming, nothing but a blubbering mess at her mother's feet.  
  
Druella flicked her wand over her daughter again, holding the curse longer and drawing out the pain. Only when she was satisfied did she lift it and the screaming finally subsided. As her daughter lay only semi-conscious, her muscles twitching with small seizures and moaning quietly, Druella called for the Healer she had left waiting outside the room. She turned her back on Bellatrix as she joined her companion at the door. “We'll remove all traces of the child,” she said simply. “I think you'll find my skills with the Obliviate charm to be more than sufficient. But there is the problem of this happening again. My daughter has proven that she can be easily swayed by an infant, any offspring at this stage will divert her attention from her future at the Dark Lord's side. It is, therefore, in our best interest to prevent such a development from taking place again...” they both stepped out of the room and the heartless witch paused as she noticed her youngest daughter standing in the hallway.  
  
Unable to hide her fear, Narcissa took a step back. If her mother planned to remove Bellatrix's memories there was no telling what she would do to her. She'd never had reason to fear her mother before, without question she'd always been Druella's favourite, but as she stood in the hallway Narcissa found herself fearing for her life.  
  
For a moment it seemed as if the older witch would say something. She considered her daughter carefully, assessing the threat she posed. Then she simply turned back to the Healer and the two continued downstairs, discussing the next part of Druella's plan.  
  
Narcissa breathed in sharply, not having realised she'd stopped for that moment. With her heart beating furiously she ran into the bedroom and fell to her knees beside her sister. “Bellatrix,” she turned her sister over and gently caressed her cheek. “Bella, please, say something.” She wasn't sure what to do. There was nothing she could do without being caught.  
  
Bellatrix looked like death.  
  
Staring at her sister's pale face, Narcissa was reminded of viewing their Father before his funeral. The only difference was that Bellatrix looked far from being at peace. “Stay with me,” she whispered as she bent down and pressed a kiss to Bella's forehead.  
  
“Cissy...” Bellatrix barely managed to speak as she recognised her little sister's voice. “Don't let... don't let them...” it was a struggle simply to breathe, but she tried anyway. She had to keep fighting.  
  
“Stay calm,” Narcissa whispered, brushing Bellatrix's hair from her face. “Everything will be alright, just stay calm. Don't try to move. It's all going to be fine, you'll see.”  
  
A single tear slipped down Bellatrix's cheek and she forced out a strangled cry. She was too tired to argue, too tired to point out that nothing would be alright again. “Cassi...” she breathed out her daughter's name, determined never to forget.  
  
And with that final act, Bellatrix passed out.


	3. The Greater Good

Once he stepped foot beyond the front door he could do nothing but keep walking. There was no direction, no certainty, just an intense desire to disappear into the night with the child that had been rejected from their dynasty. All he had to do was keep walking. As long as he didn't stop he could put it off for just a little longer. Because once he stopped it would be real - it would have to be done.

From behind him a spine-chilling scream escaped the confines of the Lestrange Manor. In his heart he could feel his wife's pain, he was sure of it. As sure as he could feel his own heartbeat he could feel Bella's anguish. It wasn't the first time and likely wouldn't be the last. As another scream echoed through the night he fought the urge to turn and run to her side. It was where he belonged, where he should have been at that moment. He'd been at her side with every one of the miscarriages they had endured, watched her silently slip away into darkness as another piece of her heart died with each unborn child. This was the first time he had seen her react with such a violent passion and it scared him to leave her with Druella. But he feared more what would have happened had he not taken on the task himself. No doubt it would have been the old bat's greatest pleasure to slaughter the child in front of her daughter's eyes. It would have killed Bellatrix. Despite what he could feel his actions doing to her in that moment, he knew if she'd been forced to watch it happen there would have been no bringing her back to any semblance of sanity.

Crossing over from the edge of their estate into the woods, Rodolphus stopped abruptly as though he had been hit in the chest with a deadly curse. She was gone. One way or another he couldn't feel her anymore. He turned to look back at the Manor, desperate to know what had happened. But all was silent. There was no sign of life inside, but part of him was certain that he would have sensed death. Maybe it was some childish notion brought on by the traumatic situation he found himself it, but he was sure he would know if she died.

In his arms Cassiopeia grew tense. Instinctively he tightened his hold on her, drawing her firmly against his chest. He turned his attention to the child and marvelled, for the moment, at how his instinct to protect her remained despite what he was about to do.

Pushing the thought aside he continued on his path. He strode deeper into the woods, finding a relative amount of relief as he retreated further from his home. Not that it made what he was doing any easier. His mind was plagued with thoughts of what had happened to his beloved wife. Leaving her alone, in such a vulnerable state, with her mother had not been the smartest decision he'd ever made. Knowing Narcissa was there didn't help matters. She was still just a girl in so many ways and so terrified of her mother. There was no telling what mess he would find upon his return.

' _What are you doing, Rodolphus,_ ' he scolded himself as he kept walking, moving faster through the trees. ' _She will never forgive you for this. You've lost your only child and your only love in one action. You will never be complete again._ ' He forced himself to ignore the reality. He couldn't have it clouding his mind if he had any hope of accomplishing his task.

A small clearing opened up before him and he stopped once more.

It wasn't a natural clearing. Tree trunks lay haphazardly on the ground, formerly burnt but now beginning to sprout new life. The irony was not lost on him. The 'clearing' had been made by Bellatrix in a fit of rage after her blood traitor sister had run away. If he hadn't caught her she likely would have destroyed the entire woodland. And now as he brought their newborn daughter to this place it seemed the fallen trees had birthed new life as well.

He looked down on the small baby in his arms and drew in a sharp breath. Big black eyes stared up at him. Bellatrix' eyes, exactly. He fell to his knees with a heavy thud, holding his daughter to his chest as he looked at her. The first thing that made him fall in love with his wife all those years ago was her eyes. She had such big beautiful eyes that seemed to light up or darken her whole face, depending on her mood. They were so unique, so undoubtedly her, that they had caught the attention of a thirteen year old boy who up until that point had thought girls were the bane of his existence.

"I can't do this," he whispered into the empty clearing. He turned his daughter in his arms, holding her out in front of him so that her tiny feet curled together against his chest. The dark eyes looked up at the sky, though likely saw nothing but blurred colours and shapes. He lifted her slightly, meeting her halfway, as he lowered his lips to kiss her head. "Forgive me."

Holding her carefully with one arm, he reached back to draw his wand from the holster at his hip. "Merlin, please, forgive me," he breathed out as he pressed the wood to his daughter's neck.

A tear slipped down his cheek.

 

***

A swift flick of the wrist, the scratching sound of quill against parchment, and the Owl to Gringotts Bank was signed; Druella M Black. With a tight smile she replaced her quill in her handbag and turned her attention to the Healer. "You'll find your payment transferred within minutes," she informed the woman, standing up from the table. "Good service is never hard to find if you have the right connections."

"Of course Madam Black, thank you," the Healer nodded, the two sharing a smile that only true conspirators could appreciate.

With one hand firmly on her hip and the other gracefully holding a glass of wine, Druella moved to the window to survey the grounds and consider what had just happened. It was all for the best, of course. She hadn't considered how a child would impair her daughter's judgment. There were far greater things laid out for her. Why be tied down with the lowly duties of motherhood when you could have the world at your feet? The Dark Lord viewed her as an asset, his finest, and she was going to throw that all away over a drooling mess.

Yes, it was all for the best.

She smiled then, arching one perfectly shaped eyebrow, as she mentally applauded herself. Such instincts, such finesse... it was her masterpiece. Bellatrix was her masterpiece - a nightmare waiting to happen, a warrior at the ready, a fierce and powerful witch. With that thought she swirled the dark red wine in her glass, inhaling the rich aroma. She'd ordered the wretched House Elves to serve her only the finest wine the Lestranges had in their cellar. And it was quite exquisite. It made her wonder, vaguely, what it had been saved for. Not that it mattered at all, now that it had been uncorked.

Even from the kitchen she heard the front doors burst open. She resisted the urge to laugh as she noticed the Healer jump at the sound. The hunter had returned, and without the cry of the troublesome babe. That was good news indeed. She had to admit to herself she hadn't thought Rodolphus would pull through. He'd always seemed so devoted to Bellatrix, so determined to cater to her every whim. But finally he had shown some real masculinity. No pureblood male should kneel at a woman's feet. And it appeared, after all this time, he didn't.

It wasn't long until he had found them in the kitchen. If he was shocked to find the room looking more like some underground surgical room, he didn't show it. "It is done," he growled, dropping a bundle onto the table beside the bloody sheets.

"You took your time," Druella said.

His nostrils flared, but that was all the reaction he dared for the moment. Mentally he dared the older woman to turn around, to face him. He wanted her to look him in the eye and tell him what he had done was the right thing. The worst part was she would without hesitation. He knew that. "You come into my house and ask me to do away with my only child," he spoke swiftly, remaining calm despite the anger building inside him. "I shall take all the time I wish."

She turned then, studying her son in law with pursed lips. "Mm..." as if the sound was good enough, she turned her attention back to the window. The wine glass rested against her lips for a moment before she raised it once more to taste the sweet nectar of victory.

Rodolphus glared at her, icy blue eyes shooting daggers at the woman's back. He would gladly strangle her if he thought it would do any good. Yet everything about her only served to irritate him. Particularly the audacity she had to stand in his home as if she were Lady of the Manor. He bit his tongue, attempting to remain civil, as he studied his surroundings. "And what is this?" he asked. It was not as if he didn't have a right to know. His kitchen had not been in such a state since he'd first tried to teach Bellatrix to cook. "I leave the Estate for a short period and you turn my kitchen into a slaughter house. Should I fear for the occupants, or whomever else you've had carved up in my absence? I trust the Elves remain untouched, I would hate to have to break in new ones so soon..."

As his words suddenly faltered, Druella smirked. Had he found the prize? Had he noticed what was right in front of his nose? Now the fun would truly begin, she would see exactly what he was made of.

"What is that?" he growled, stalking towards the Healer as he pointed to the silver platter. Somewhere in his mind he knew exactly what he was pointing at, he just didn't want to believe it.

"Mister Lestrange... I..." the Healer took two steps back, walking into the wall as he advanced on her.

"Tell me what that is or, so help me, I shall curse your tongue from your throat," he growled at the woman, his anger boiling to the surface.

The Healer's eyes were filled with fear in that moment. She glanced frantically towards Druella but the matriarch was simply watching with interest, her wine glass lingering at her lips. "It was asked of me, Mister Lestrange," she spoke quickly, as though the slightest hesitation could bring about her ultimate demise. "It was Madam Black's wish to have your wife's uterus removed. I was only doing as I was told."

He stumbled backward, looking as though he had just been slapped across the face.

Shock spread through him like wildfire, numbing his senses. He reached out to steady himself. As his hand rested against the table, his fingers fell against the silver tray drawing his attention to the object once more. His wide eyes took in the taut, blood-spattered muscle. The hollow womb that had, until recently, secured his only child just as an oyster protected it's prized pearl. It wasn't meant to be there. There were things in the world that he did not understand in their entirety, but there was no purpose to this action. There was no logical explanation as to why his wife's uterus had been harvested from her body.

Except that there was a reason, one that stood across from him at that moment sipping wine without a care.

Instantly he clenched his fists, looking up at his mother in law with a deadly glare. "You did this," he spoke, his tone dark and dangerous.

"Sacrifices must be made for the greater good, Rodolphus," Druella responded with only a slight air of annoyance. Her eyes wavered only for a moment as she noticed the Healer quickly pack up and leave. "My daughter's little set back cannot happen again. Her true path is already in place, she will rise at the Dark Lord's side, and if I have to put an end to every distraction that prevents her ascension I will do so."

"YOU DO NOT ENTER MY HOUSE AND ACT ON MY WIFE'S BEHALF!" Rodolphus slammed his fists down hard on the table between them. He began to stalk around the table, moving swiftly towards her, his eyes trained on her like a tiger going in for the kill. "You do not rule this household, Druella, and you certainly do not rule Bellatrix. Her place at the Dark Lord's side is not a chance for you to make up for your maternal inadequacies, not that I imagine anything would. You are nothing but a heartless bitch, gradually shrivelling up inside until the day you die. Old, alone, and unloved! For you, Druella Black, know nothing but hatred and it seeps from you as you go about your day, infecting the lives of those obtuse enough to get close to you. In truth you are disease, and I will not have you in my house a moment longer!"

With her eyebrow raised and firm smirk forming on her lips, Druella's eyes glared straight back at his. She stepped towards him, challenging him, knowing he would not dare to turn on a Black matriarch. "You think you can keep me from my family?"

"You have no family here," he snarled at her. "There is no Black residing within these walls, and there never shall be!"

"I did what was right for my daughter. That worthless spawn had no business being born..."

A sharp crack filled the room as Rodolphus swung his arm, backhanding her across the face in one swift movement. The glass she held smashed on the stone floor, the wine spilling across the surface like the blood that stained the table. "Get out of my house," he warned her, pulling his wand from his robes.

Touching her cheek gingerly, Druella rose to her full height once more. She stood with her usual rigid posture, her eyes narrowing as she lifted her chin in defiance. "Strike me down, boy. I will have you buried beneath the very foundations of this building," she threatened, daring to take another step.

"You will leave my house this instant and you will not return," Rodolphus growled, refusing to back down. "I would sooner bathe in the blood of muggles than welcome you across my threshold." He raised his wand, holding it directly at the level of her heart. As she moved to pull her wand from her sleeve in retaliation, he flicked his wrist towards the nearby shelf. A jar exploded sending shards of glass and causing Druella to flinch despite her best efforts.

A low chuckle began to rise from her throat, a deadly sound, and for the first time Rodolphus knew where his wife got it from. She took a step towards him, glass crunching beneath her boots. "Mark my words, Rodolphus Lestrange, you will rue this day," she snarled. With a simple swipe of her hand she batted his wand away from her as she continued to move closer to him. Slowly she leaned towards him, breathing her words against his ear as though her tongue were made of ice. "You will never keep Bellatrix from me, because you've failed to realise that she is me. Your worst nightmares are coming for you and there is nothing you can do." She pressed a mocking kiss to his cheek, before swiftly turning on the spot and disapparating.

Rodolphus wiped his hand violently across his cheek, as if he planned to skin his own face to remove her devil's kiss. Clenching his fists he let out an almighty roar, expelling all his anger to the now empty room. But it wasn't enough. He moved swiftly brandishing his wand like a whip as he took out all his frustration. Jars burst, cupboard doors flew off their hinges, and liquids painted the walls with a harshly splattered pattern. He continued to roar, the unnatural sound echoing throughout the manor.

Then as suddenly as it began it stopped.

He stood in the kitchen breathing heavily through clenched teeth, finally taking in his surroundings. His eyes came to rest on Narcissa standing in the doorway. "Bella..." he breathed out. It was all he could manage.

"Mother made sure she wouldn't remember anything," she informed him, her voice almost a whisper. "She won't eat and she won't speak. You need to go to her."

"I can't..."

"Rodolphus!" Narcissa shouted at him, tears falling down her cheeks as she stamped her foot. "You have to. If you don't she won't get up. She'll go to sleep and she won't wake up. If you don't go to her all of this will have been for nothing. She'll be nothing!"

He lowered his head a moment, closing his eyes. Ultimately he knew Narcissa was right. He knew how fragile Bellatrix would be and how hard it would be to bring her back to any semblance of her old self. But he had to be there for her. He hadn't left her yet and he wasn't going to start now, not when she was truly thrown into the depths of her own personal hell. Taking a deep breath, he straightened up and nodded his head firmly. His wife needed him. His love needed him. He was not about to let her drown.

 

***

Her mother had explained everything to her. The words she'd used were spoken with little emotion, if any at all. In the twenty eight years since the birth of her eldest child Druella Black had not once expressed any feeling towards the girl -it seemed ridiculous to break with tradition. So she had stood beside the bed and explained it all, everything that had apparently occurred over three days, and in silence Bellatrix had listened trying to force it all together in her mind. There had been a surprise attack by the Order - that much seemed obvious - but she'd been injured severely before they had a chance to escape. She'd lost some months of her memory (in fact it had taken some time to convince her that it wasn't the date she thought it was) and suffered a vicious collection of stunners to the stomach. From what they could tell she was healing at an acceptable pace, despite the memory loss, but healing was a tricky business even with the aid of a wand.

She lay staring at the tea tray on the bedside table. Steam no longer rose from the tea or the broth, she had watched in silence as the warm wisps gradually subsided, but she couldn't bring herself to move. If she moved she would feel the pain. Everything hurt. Any little move she made caused a sharp sting to shoot through her abdomen and a ripple effect of nausea flowing up to the back of her throat. So she lay on her side with one leg curled around a thick pillow, silently wishing she'd died in battle.

Across the room the door opened and she closed her eyes quickly, keeping her breathing even in hopes they would just go away. Without needing to look she could tell it was him. The knowledge alone forced an onslaught of tears to well up in her eyes and she turned to bury her head into her pillow. She knew he must have been told already. It was probably the only reason he stood in their room now, to see just how defective his wife really was.

"Bellatrix," his voice was unnaturally soft, almost broken, as he crossed the room. Careful not to cause her any more pain, he moved onto the bed until he lay behind her. With an unspoken tenderness he kissed her shoulder as she began to cry. "Forgive me, Bella." he whispered against her skin, words barely audible to her.

For the first time in her life she felt safe to cry, cradled in her husband's arms. She wanted to tell him she was sorry for letting it happen. There was a desperate need in her to let him know what she was feeling. Yet the words wouldn't come when she opened her mouth, instead she found herself expressing other thoughts. "I don't expect you to remain bound to me," the pain she was feeling was evident in the tone of her voice as she turned slightly towards him. Years of conditioning forced out her resignation. "There are countless acceptable purebloods that would be willing to give you an heir. I will not question your decision."

Almost the instant she said it he pushed himself up and turned her face to look at him. His fingers caressed her pale cheek, brushing away the path of stray tears. "If we cannot have children then I do not want them," he told her sincerely.

"Rodolphus..."

"Belle," his thumb brushed against her lips, silencing her. "Carrying on the Lestrange line does not rest solely on me. I love you, I want you... anything else comes second, you have to know that."

She looked into his eyes, finding the pain she felt reflected back at her. It hadn't occurred to her that he would hurt too, for some unknown reason she'd just assumed he would toss her aside. "I'm sorry," she whispered sadly.

"No. I'm sorry, Bella," he lay down once more, his hand coming to rest against her abdomen. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let it happen. I'm sorry." the desperate words were spoken between kisses as he buried his face against her shoulder, holding her close to him.

There was nothing she could say, it made no sense to her why he was apologising. So she lay quietly in his arms, letting her tears stain the pillow as she listened to his pleading voice. Her hand slipped down to lay over his. Their fingers entwined and she felt him press his hand gently against her. She closed her eyes and tried to push away all thoughts of the children she would never have. Despite what Rodolphus said she knew she'd failed him as a wife, and she couldn't help but feel as though she'd failed as a woman.

As her tears subsided, a dark haze fell over her and she was determined never to fail again.


	4. My Fallen Angel

“Belle...”  
  
She looked up at him, her dark eyes lacking their usual lustre. For a moment she looked at him somewhat expectantly. As though she presumed he had brought her good news. It presented a nice change from her now customary vacant expression, the one that slid back into place within in an instant. She sat perched on the window seat in the library, hugging her knees close to her chest as she curled up against the cushions that surrounded her. When he failed to say anything beyond her name she turned her attention back to the window. He did this often and she’d become accustomed to ignoring him. Words, it had always been words with him and yet he seemed to have trouble articulating his thoughts now. It would have irritated her had she bothered to care, but very little caught her interest anymore.  
  
Dark eyes roamed the grounds that lay before her. They took in everything from the gardens to the lake, while at the same time they took in nothing. Her eyes were dead, her mind was nothing but a never ending chasm and her very soul seemed to have lost that pure Bellatrix spark.  
  
“Come outside with me?” he asked quietly, having moved towards the bay window without her noticing. He held his hand out to her silently.  
  
“I don’t wish to,” she muttered. “It’s too cold.”  
  
He sighed heavily and lowered his hand. At least she had begun making excuses rather than simply denying him and saying no more. He supposed that was progress, in a way. “Belle, I want you to come with me,” he tried again, reaching out to gently brush a curl out of her face.  
  
“We don’t always get what we want,” she responded bitterly, pulling her head away from his touch.  
  
Rodolphus took a step back, knowing it was best to hold his tongue but hating that there was nothing more he could do. It had taken him almost six weeks, six long and tiring weeks, to get her to the point of sitting downstairs in the library, or anywhere other than their bedroom. Though it had taken him a few days after the initial shock wore off he had finally managed to get her to eat. From there he slowly coaxed her to the bathroom each morning to bathe and change into clean clothes. Then there was the matter of getting her out of the bedroom altogether. It had been some weeks after her trauma before she started wandering around the Manor of her own accord. She wouldn’t speak a word, just wander. They’d had a minor setback when her wandering lead her into the nursery, the room that had been locked for years until she had fallen pregnant again one last time. He made sure to lock it once more, charming the door so she would be unable to open it again. He was down to one last task, getting her outside the house.  
  
He was determined that she would go outside today. Snow was beginning to fall, the first for the season, and he knew that she loved the snow. They always stood outside in the first snowfall, since her first year at Hogwarts. He remembered finding her alone in the common room attempting to conjure her own snow. It was the first time she wouldn’t be able to enjoy it with her sisters and at the age of eleven she had yet to master the art of hiding her emotions. So he had taken her hand and led her through the castle, wrapping her in his robe to keep her warm as they dodged ghosts and prefects. Once outside they sat in the courtyard, hidden by the shadows, and watched it snow in silence. He wasn’t about to let her ruin tradition not. He understood she needed time to heal but if he left her to her own devices she wouldn’t make the effort to try.  
  
Leaving her in the library he strode out into the hallway and headed for the closet beneath the staircase. He pulled on his winter boots and threw on his overcoat before grabbing both her coat and boots as well. She was going to go outside whether she liked it or not. If he had to dress her like a baby for the rest of her life, dragging her outside like the petulant child she was, then he would. She was not going to spend the rest of her life cooped up in the Manor if he could help it.  
  
She didn’t look up when he walked back into the room, just as he expected. However, he did get her attention when he pulled her legs down to the floor and promptly sat down at her feet.  
  
“What are you doing?” she asked, shocked that he would treat her as though she were a child. She tried to pull her leg away but he held onto her, jamming her calf between his knees as he laced up her boots. The silence she was met with only proved to confuse her. “Rodolphus, unhand me this instant!” she warned him. Yet her tone failed to be as dangerous as it once was.  
  
Deciding to give her some of her own treatment he continued his work in silence. Letting go of her left leg he move quickly to grab the right before she took the chance to escape. As she continued to try and fight him off he slid her other boot on, hitting the heel firmly to push it into place.  
  
“Ow! That hurt,” she cried out, reaching out to slap him in the shoulder. “Rodolphus...” she frowned. She couldn’t understand what was happening. He usually left her alone if she didn’t want to do something. With the exception of that one morning she hadn’t wanted a bath and he had ended up dumping a bucket of cold water on her. “I don’t want to go outside, why can’t you just leave me be?” she sounded tired, defeated, yet still she tried to make him stop.  
  
He finished with her boots and stood up, pulling her to her feet with him. “Arms up,” he ordered as he picked up her coat. Holding it up, ready to dress her, he raised an eyebrow when she didn’t move.  
  
In response she crossed her arms firmly over her chest and stared straight back at him, defiantly.  
  
“Arms up, Bellatrix,” he repeated firmly. He tried not to think of a smaller version of her, an older Cassiopeia, refusing to do what she was told. Was this his punishment for his actions? Playing the role of ‘father’ to his own wife? The thought stung him. He’d tried so hard not to think about it, not to let it linger, but her childish behaviour didn’t help at all.  
  
She noticed the change. Quite suddenly he lowered his head, looking away from her. That wasn’t at all like Rodolphus. He was the only one that held his own against her, had the guts to challenge her until she backed down. So to see him back down so easily worried her. With that in mind she took a deep breath and uncrossed her arms, holding her hand towards the arm of her coat.  
  
As he noticed her reaching out towards him, he looked up and a faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. He gently eased her coat on, stepping around her as he helped her with her other arm. As he stood in front of her once more, buttoning her up, he paused when she suddenly leant forward and pressed her lips to his softly. The kiss was soft, innocent. It was like that first kiss they had shared fourteen years earlier. But that first time she hadn’t been shaking.  
  
He pulled back, holding her by the arms and studied her closely. “Belle?” he noticed how her lower lip trembled, along with the rest of her. The sight had become all too familiar to him.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes downcast.  
  
“What are you sorry for, love?” he asked, gently tipping her chin up to make her look at him. Her eyes met his, reflecting nothing but sadness, and he pulled her into his arms. Maybe he’d done the wrong thing giving her space. He didn’t know what he was doing. All he could do was try his best and hope it all worked out right. “Come with me.” He whispered in her ear, taking her hand in his as he pulled out of the embrace.  
  
“Where are we going?” she asked as she let him lead her, using her free and to wipe her eyes before the tears fell. She was sick of crying. And frankly she was amazed there was anything left in her body to do so.  
  
He didn’t answer her. Pushing through the door to the conservatory, he led her out the backdoor and down the steps into the garden. Standing outside in the cold he held his hand out, watching as small snowflakes landed in his palm. “It’s snowing, Belle. The first snowfall,” he told her as he stepped closer to her, lowering his voice. “I couldn’t let you miss it.”  
  
She put her head back to look up at the sky, her eyelids fluttering as little flecks fell on her eyelashes. Slowly a smile began to spread across her lips. A sad, but beautiful, smile. “Thank you,” she whispered, closing the distance between them to cuddle up against him. “Thank you for staying.”  
  
“I will never leave you, Belle,” he told her softly, kissing the top of her head as they stood in the falling snow.  
  
“Even after everything some part of me still thought... maybe,” she said quietly. It was the first time she’d spoken about what happened, or at least what she knew of it, since he’d held her on their bed and she wasn’t quite sure how to express her thoughts. Yet the words spilled from her lips with no direction. “Maybe when the war was over, maybe when everything had settled... maybe it just wasn’t our time yet... and now we’ll never know.”  
  
He stayed silent for a moment. His arms tightened around her and he rested his chin atop her head. ‘ _What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her_ ,’ he silently repeated in his mind. Each time he’d woken to her screaming in the night he couldn’t help but consider showing her. Would it not be easier for her if she just had one memory, one moment, to cling to? It may not change anything but at least she would remember holding her daughter in her arms. However, he understood such actions would do more harm than good. He had to protect his wife and in doing so he had to ensure she never found out about their daughter.  
  
“Rodolphus?” she pulled back to look at his face, a slight frown in place as she studied him. “Did I say something wrong?”  
  
The confusion in her eyes broke his heart – those beautiful eyes. He gently cupped her cheek and kissed her lips. “I thought the same,” he told her honestly. “But I also worried about you being put through all that pain again. Belle, I’ve watched a little piece of you fade away with each loss. You don’t know how I feared losing you altogether.”  
  
She buried her head against his chest again, her arms digging beneath his coat to circle his waist. Somewhere on the tip of her tongue was a promise that she would never leave him yet she could not bring herself to say the words. They died in her throat. Instead she simply clung to him, watching the snowflakes rest on his coat.  
  
“It will be alright,” he promised her, wrapping his coat around her to keep her warm. “Everything will be alright.” He rested his cheek against her head and for a moment everything was as it should be. For that one moment they simply stood watching the season change before their eyes.  
  
She let herself believe him, her mind lost in the moment as she snuggled against him. If she dared to think beyond that she knew she’d let go of his promise and everything would crumble. “I’m getting cold,” she said quietly after a long silence, her voice almost muffled as she turned her face to bury it against his chest. Her arms tightened around him slightly, despite her feelings about the weather. She didn’t want to let go.  
  
“Shall we go inside then?” he asked softly. He pulled back slightly, gently tipping her chin up and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “I can draw you a warm bath and have Varius bring up some hot chocolate...”  
  
“No,” she murmured quickly. Her tongue traced her lips a moment as she thought about it. A hint of the old Bellatrix present in her eyes as she looked up at him. “You make it so much better.” Her lower lip jutted out slightly as she pouted.  
  
Once again he was struck by the image that haunted his dreams. A teenaged Cassiopeia flashed across his mind, bearing that very same pout. Instantly swaying whatever negative response he had given into a resigned positive. His change of heart was rewarded with a swift kiss to his cheek and the imagined girl danced from the room, his wife’s knowing smirk barely hidden behind a book.  
  
“Of course,” he agreed and slid his arm protectively around her as they moved to head inside. “We’ll have Varius draw the bath, nice and warm. And then afterwards once you’re tucked into bed I will bring you up a hot chocolate.”  
  
They meandered into the Manor, taking their time for reasons neither of them felt the need to put into words. Silently he helped her with her coat and boots once more as he called for Varius and put him to work. She waited patiently as he shrugged off his own coat, sliding her hand into his the moment he offered it to her. With their fingers entwined they headed upstairs.  
  
In the bathroom he stood behind her, carefully undoing the small buttons on the back of her dress. There had been a time, long ago now, when he had found women’s clothing so complicated that she had opted for him simply tearing the wretched garments from her body. However, since then he had learnt a great many things and found enjoyment in slowly peeling each item off her tenderly. For him it was a chance to truly worship every inch of the woman he loved and she had only ever allowed him to do so. As he pushed the dress from her shoulders he pressed a kiss to the base of her neck, feeling the light shiver that ran though her. She leant back against him, his arms sliding around her waist, content for the moment to just be in his arms.  
  
“Mon ange,” he said softly, kissing her shoulder. His lips lingered against her skin as he closed his eyes.  
  
She took a deep breath, raising her hand to thread her fingers through his hair. “Mon amour,” the words came out in a sigh as she exhaled slowly, relaxing against him.  
  
He turned his head to kiss her neck and then slowly stepped back. Stripping off his clothes quickly, he moved to the bath and stepped into the hot water. Steam swirled around him as he sank into the bath, leaning back to let the water cover his torso. He raised his hand to her, helping her balance as she stepped in gracefully and sat in front of him. They had grown so accustomed to bathing together that it was hard to think of a time when it had been awkward between them. She had giggled every time his legs brushed hers having not bathed with anyone but her sisters and even that was when they were small children. But now she sank into the water with ease, leaning back against him without a thought.  
  
Idly she ran her fingers up and down his thigh. She could feel the thin black hairs that covered his legs. It amused her that something women went to great lengths to rid themselves of was attractive on their male counterpart. Not that her husband was particularly hairy but she knew of many women who found it a turn on, chest hair particularly which she hated. She liked to run her hands over her husband’s smooth chest, or lean against it. However, she was fascinated with the hair on his legs and she had been since it had begun growing there. It was surprisingly soft beneath her fingers and that was what she liked about it. Her life was, like her appearance, sharp - all anger and rough edges - but he provided a softness, helping her stay calm and collected.  
  
“The Dark Lord asks after you,” his words broke her from her thoughts and she looked away, her fingers still absentmindedly playing with the hairs on his leg. “His best, his brightest...”  
  
She hesitated, chewing on her lower lip as she thought of their Lord and Master. How long had she been hidden away in the Manor? How many days had she spent curled up in bed? Surely he would be angered by her weakness. She did not deserve to return to his side. “He does not request my presence?” she asked, her voice merely a whisper.  
  
“He...” Rodolphus paused to think about it.  
  
At the last meeting the Dark Lord had used them as an example, encouraging his followers to fill their wives bellies. The continuation of their bloodlines was a high priority in their cause. After all, if there are no Purebloods to continue what had begun with them then there was nothing to fight for. He had rallied the men, striking at the heart of their fears and desires. If anything Lord Voldemort knew how to manipulate, and no man appreciated the sense of inferiority when it came to his manhood. The more children they had the stronger they would appear to the others and the stronger their personal bloodline would be. To make matters worse the Dark Lord had brought Rodolphus forward and spoken of Bellatrix’ plight, he had made it clear how unfortunate it was that such strong and devoted followers could not contribute to a new generation of Death Eaters. He’d been certain that any product of their union would prove to be a shining example of what they strived to achieve.  
  
It was definitely not advisable to repeat any of what had been said to his wife. It would only prove to distress her further when she was doing so well in her recovery. “He awaits your return to his side, love,” he told her honestly.  
  
“I am not myself,” she said quietly.  
  
“I know,” he brushed his fingers gently against her abdomen, relieved when the action didn’t make her tense. His free hand reached for the sponge and he began to gently bathe her.  
  
“I do try...”  
  
“Shh,” he kissed her cheek as he silenced her, pressing the sponge against her shoulder and letting the water trickle over her skin. “I know, Belle. You’re trying so hard, I’m proud of you.”  
  
“It’s not enough,” she countered, shaking her head slightly. To her credit her voice no longer broke when put to use. Barely any emotion was emitted. It reminded him of how she had acted after they had lost their last child.  
  
He stopped what he was doing for the moment. Letting go of the sponge, he slid his arms around her supportively and rested his head against hers. “If it’s making you better at your own pace then it’s enough,” he told her softly. “And it is. You’re doing so well.”  
  
She turned in his lap and curled up against his chest, burying her face in his neck. As she inhaled deeply she let his familiar musky scent overwhelm her senses. She closed her eyes, calming herself as he took up his task of washing her once more, and gave in to the safety and warmth he provided. Every part of her felt cold. It didn’t matter that she was in a warm bath with her equally warm husband, she could still sense a chill deep within her. A shiver ran the length of her spin and she curled into him further.  
  
“It’s alright...” he responded automatically, sensing her discomfort. He’d become so used to it. Even before they were married they had been so in tune with one another – one reacting to the other’s actions without comment. “You’re alright...” he whispered reassuringly.  
  
Slowly she raised her head, pressing her lips to his neck. Her hand slid up his chest, fingers splayed out over his smooth skin as she continued upward. Long untouched lips trailed a cautious path up his neck, feeling his pulse beat strong against her mouth. Her slender fingers disappeared into his hair as she breathed over his ear. “Rodolphus...” his name was but a whisper on her lips, so tender and yet so deadly.  
  
Against his better judgement he closed his eyes, welcoming her touch.  
  
“Excuses, Master,” a timid voice interrupted them.  
  
A sound escaped her throat, almost like a whimper, and she buried her face against his neck. Her fingers continued to massage the back of his head. Her muscles had tensed the moment another voice was heard and she tried her best to calm herself once more.  
  
“What is it, Varius?” Rodolphus asked sharply, opening his eyes and shooting a glare at the Elf.  
  
It was uncommon for the Master to be unkind to the House Elves and immediately Varius knew he had done something wrong. “Excuses, excuses... Varius is coming to tell Master that Madam Malfoy is arrived,” he told the wizard eagerly, bowing his head low to show respect. However, unlike the younger Elves he did not shake with fear. He had spent many years with Master Rodolphus and many more with his Father, he knew the punishments that would be dealt and he would receive them accordingly. As the Head of the Lestrange House Elves he had to provide an example for the younger ones. “Varius is telling Madam Malfoy that Mistress Bellatrix is not to be disturbed. But she is saying she is waiting to speak with her.”  
  
“Thank you, Varius,” Rodolphus waved his hand at the old Elf. “Tell Narcissa we will be with her in a moment.”  
  
As she heard the quiet pop that signified he had disapparated, Bellatrix raised her head again. “What could she want?” she asked quietly.  
  
“I could hazard a guess,” he muttered, annoyance seeping into his tone.  
  
It had only been a few days after the ‘incident’ before Druella discovered the wards he had put up. He’d set to work as soon as Bellatrix had fallen asleep, the House Elves assisting him with a quiet determination. They had gone from corner to corner ensuring there was no possible way that the aging witch would step foot on the Lestrange Estate. However, once Druella had discovered he had ensured all contact with her daughter was severed she had turned on her youngest daughter and manipulated the young woman’s guilt to her advantage. Narcissa visited twice a week to check on her sister until Rodolphus discovered it was Druella dictating her visits and he’d ordered her from the Manor until Bellatrix was well enough to receive her.  
  
The fact that she had returned could only be bad news.


	5. Unchain My Heart

The crack of disapparation echoed throughout the Manor. Within an instant Rodolphus had caught Narcissa by the arm and pushed her up against the wall. Had their relationship ever been more than that of a brother and sister his intentions may have been questioned. However, it was quite clear no such thoughts crossed his mind as his grip on her arm tightened. "What the fuck were you thinking?" he growled at her.  
  
"Unhand me," Narcissa's eyes were wide but her tone was sharp. She certainly did not appreciate being handled in such a manner. To the best of her ability she struggled to push him off her. The fact that he was at least five inches taller than her, and definitely wider, didn't help matters.  
  
"It's taken me this long to get her to speak at all," he continued, not caring in the slightest for her discomfort. "Almost two months, Narcissa. Two months of feeding her, bathing her, dressing her, and you walk in and unravel it all in one fell swoop."  
  
"I swear to Merlin, Rodolphus Lestrange, if you do not unhand me this instant I will castrate you and throw you into the lake!" she shot back angrily, stamping the heel of her boot down firmly on his toes.  
  
Mention of the lake was enough to make her threat work. Of course, the prospect of castration certainly added to his immediate change of heart. He let go of her arm and moved away from her, clenching his fists as he tried to think what to do next. Bellatrix hadn't left the estate in months there was no telling where she would go or what she would do. Worse still was the thought of what someone else could do to her in her state. He turned and threw a punch at the wall, cracking the plaster and breaking the skin on his knuckles.  
  
"Rodolphus!" Narcisa cried out, grabbing his arm.  
  
"What were you thinking, Narcissa?" he looked at her again sharply. "What in Merlin's name made you think that waltzing in and telling her at this time was the right decision?"  
  
"I wasn't thinking," she sighed, accepting the fact that she was in the wrong. "I didn't mean to and had I been in the right frame of mind, I assure you, I wouldn't have said anything until she was ready to hear it. I was just overwhelmed and I wanted to tell my sister the news." Unshed tears glistened in her eyes. She didn't know how she was going to fix her mistake but she knew she would have to somehow.  
  
Rodolphus sighed heavily and moved to wrap his arms around her, hugging her firmly as she began to cry. "I know you didn't mean to," he said quietly. After a moment he pulled back and tilted her chin up. "Congratulations. You will be an excellent mother and I know Bella will say the same, when she's ready. She's just not... herself."  
  
She nodded quickly and raised her hands to wipe away the few tears she had dared to shed. "I understand," she assured him. "It was foolish of me to come here."  
  
"You wanted to share your excitement," he said, a hint of sadness in his eyes. He couldn't fault her that. Gently he kissed her cheeks. "I'll find her and talk to her, Cissa. We shall have a dinner to celebrate the new baby. I promise you that." He stepped away from her to grab his robes and prayed to Merlin he would find his wife quickly.  


 

***

  
She wasn't entirely sure where she was. Looking around she determined her location was somewhere in the English countryside, apparently, which didn't help with her navigation at all as most of the English countryside looked exactly the same as the rest of the United Kingdom. She huffed and collapsed onto the ground, crossing her arms and legs and looking decidedly like an oversized petulant child. Not that anyone was there to notice. Not that she wanted anyone there to notice. She bit down on her lip to try and prevent the tears she knew were coming. Crying was weak. Crying was unacceptable. Most of all, crying was pointless when Rodolphus wasn't there to make her laugh or just hold her until it passed. Pulling her knees up she buried her head against them and hugged her legs tight, closing her eyes and trying to understand what was happening.  
  
What point was there in fighting anymore? Did it truly matter what the world was like for the generations that would come after them? Her bloodline had finished with her. The Black line was finished as far as her Mother and her Aunt were concerned. Narcissa's child would be a Malfoy, and with the Malfoy's history it would likely be a boy. "Perfect little Narcissa gets to have her perfect little way again," she muttered bitterly. "I fight and will never have anything to show for it, but she..." Her words faded as she raised her head and realised she was no longer alone.  
  
Directly in front of her stood a little girl, the spitting image of herself at a young age. She gasped and pulled back. Her hand moved for her wand but for a reason she couldn't understand she didn't raise it. How could she? The girl posed no threat and she looked so... Black. With her dark brown eyes and her jet black hair, even the angle of her nose. This is what each of her children would have looked like. Perhaps with Rodolphus' eyes or her fairer complexion but essentially their child would look like the girl standing before her.  
  
The girl moved forward, unafraid as she approached the stranger yet still with an air of wariness about her. With her small hand she reached out and gently brushed a finger down Bellatrix' cheek. "Why are you crying?" she asked, crouching down beside her. "Are you hurt?"  
  
Frowning, Bellatrix shook her head.  
  
"Are you lost?" the girl continued, studying her new friend carefully.  
  
"I don't..." she looked at the girl, those familiar brown eyes staring back at her with interest. "Where did you come from?"  
  
"My house," the girl shrugged and turned to point to the house down the hill.  
  
Bellatrix looked where she was pointing. Her heart constricted in her chest and she looked back at the girl. That was why she looked the way she did. That was why it seemed like she was some apparition of her younger self. "If you knew who I was, you wouldn't be staying to talk to me," she said slowly, warning her.  
  
"If you knew who I was, _you_ wouldn't be staying to talk to _me_ ," the girl responded with a wicked grin.  
  
"You know who I am?" Bellatrix frowned.  
  
"Look, I'm six," Nymphadora stated in a matter of fact tone. "And you look like my Mum. It doesn't take a genius, you know. Besides, I've seen photos."  
  
"She keeps photos of me?" Bellatrix asked, glancing back down at the house. She remembered standing outside that house years earlier, just watching. It wasn't the middle of nowhere she had apparated to, it was her sister.  
  
"I'm not supposed to know about them. She keeps them hidden in a box," she explained with a shrug of her shoulders. "How come you're here? Are you going to kill us?"  
  
Bellatrix' eyes widened. "No," she said without thinking. "No, I'm not going to kill you."  
  
"Then why are you here?"  
  
"You're six, you wouldn't..." she stopped before she said the words she'd hated as a child. She was sure she could remember every time she had been told she wouldn't understand. Children were insignificant, their thoughts unimportant. She'd been ushered out of enough rooms as a child, screamed blue murder when she was shut out of the interesting conversations, and now she was about to do exactly that to another child. Perhaps it was a true sign she had become an adult. "Everything's falling apart and I suppose I just... wanted my sister. When we were children she always knew what to do and what to say to make it all better. She was always better at this than me. But it was alright because we worked it out together. We helped each other. If I made messes, she cleaned them up. If she got in trouble, I'd take the blame..." she took a shaky breath. It had been so long since she could say such things. The last time she had, she'd been screaming and blasting priceless heirlooms to smithereens. She wasn't supposed to think about her anymore and she'd been doing so well.  
  
"You can't have her," Nymphadora stated simply, turning to sit beside her Aunt and looking out towards her home.  
  
"I wasn't going to take her," she clarified, glancing down at the girl and frowning as she noticed hints of a fiery red in her hair.  
  
"You can't have her because then I won't be allowed to have her," she tapped the side of her head, not bothering to glance at Bellatrix. "I'm not as stupid as people think I am. That's the thing about being six, if you're quiet enough people forget you're there and you hear things they don't want you to hear. So I know this stuff. My Mum had to make a choice. You know what it's like? It's like ice cream."  
  
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow, already dreading the response she was going to get. "How do you figure that?"  
  
"Well, you see, when you're a kid you try them all, right?" she sighed heavily as if the answer was so obvious. "You can pick and choose whatever you feel like. Pumpkin, Peppermint Chip, Honeycomb Crumble, even Orange Rind Surprise..." she leaned closer to Bellatrix and whispered, "The surprise is it's just an orange on a cone, don't pick that one."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind," Bellatrix nodded, still not quite understanding the child's logic.  
  
"But..." she continued, sitting up straight once more. "From what I see, when you get to be big you don't have those choices any more. You've picked your favourite and that's all there is to it. Sometimes you'll think about trying those other ones again, but you'll always pick your favourite. And your friends, and your family, aren't going to always pick the same as you."  
  
"The rest of my family picked the same as me..."  
  
"No," Nymphadora sighed heavily, it was like trying to explain to a three year old. Adults could be so irritating at times. "It's vary-... It's very-... It's very-nations of the same thing."  
  
"Variations?"  
  
"Yes," she nodded. Finally, she felt, she was getting somewhere. "You know how someone can like chocolate but their friend likes chocolate with peppermint flakes?"  
  
"I understand what you mean," Bellatrix said with a nod, if anything just to make the child stop talking.  
  
"Oh," Nymphadora deflated noticeably, picking at the grass in front of her. "My Mum says it like that too... when she wants me to be quiet. I talk too much and I make too much noise. And sometimes I break things because I'm clumsy. Mum gets annoyed at me a lot. Sometimes I don't think she really wants me."  
  
There was something about the girl that truly struck Bellatrix in that moment. Perhaps it was the way she dropped her shoulders, like Narcissa would as a child when she realised her tantrum would not get her anywhere. Or it may have been that she talked of being clumsy, just as Andromeda had been at her age. Though, of course, there was the thought Bellatrix didn't wish to entertain. The girl thought her mother didn't want her, just as she had rightfully assumed in her early years. There was no reason for her to be nice to the child - half-blood and, worse, a metamorphmagus. Yet, knowing that Andromeda's child thought such a thing...  
  
"You, more than anyone, should know your Mother wants you," she said simply, looking down at the girl just as the same dark brown eyes looked up at her.  
  
"What do you mean?" Nymphadora asked curiously, a small frown on her brow.  
  
"As you said, she made her choice," Bellatrix explained as she looked back towards the house, noticing movement in the garden. "She chose to abandon her family, everything she ever knew, and start over. She chose this life. She chose you..."  
  
"She chose my Dad," the girl cut in.  
  
Clenching her jaw, Bellatrix merely nodded. She couldn't bring herself to agree to that. Talking about her sister, to her half-blood child, she could stomach. For the moment. But she would not speak of... him. "She just doesn't know what she's doing," she continued quietly. "Our Mother didn't want us. So no matter how hard she tries, she doesn't really know how to act any other way than the pureblood way. I don't think I would know either."  
  
"Don't you have kids?"  
  
"No," Bellatrix shifted back into the shadows as she watched her sister moving to the edge of the garden. She was, no doubt, looking for her daughter. There would be hell to pay if she found her elder sister lurking near her home.  
  
"Where are you going?" Nymphadora watched her scoot backwards and tried to think of something to make her stay.  
  
"Your Mother is looking for you..."  
  
The girl looked back towards her house, standing up and drawing her Mother's attention. She waved enthusiastically before quickly turning back to where her Aunt hid in the shadows. "She would want to see you," she reasoned.  
  
"No, she wouldn't," the older woman responded, her eyes darkening as she pushed herself to her feet. "We both chose a path. She got everything she wanted. It's time I do the same. You should go to your Mother."  
  
A shiver ran down the length of Nymphadora's spine. Her hair faded from black to light brown and her eyes lightened as she looked at the woman who, moments ago, had seemed to be her Mother's twin. "Where are you going to go?"  
  
"Where I'm needed," Bellatrix muttered darkly.  
  
"Will I see you again?" she asked hesitantly.  
  
"If you do," Bellatrix stepped back towards the girl, leaning down to whisper in her ear, a dangerous smile playing on her lips. "I suggest you run." With a swift flick of her wand she disapparated, leaving behind the child running for their mother.

 

***

A whirlwind burst into the entrance hall of Lestrange Manor. Rodolphus appeared on the landing as it reached the top of the stairs and grabbed what appeared to be his wife around the waist. Her instant reaction was to fight, punching and clawing with every ounce of feeling she still had left in her. “Belle,” he held onto her tightly, trying his best to keep them both from toppling down the staircase. “Belle, love, Bellatrix... Stop! It’s me!” Her movements stopped quite suddenly at the sound of his voice, as though she had been frozen, and he fought the urge to shake her in an attempt to get her moving again.

She didn’t say anything, she didn’t make a sound.

“You scared me, and Narcissa, we’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said in an effort to elicit some form or response. “Where were you, love? I checked your favourite places...”

She remained silent, burying her face against his chest.

“Narcissa didn’t mean to upset you, love...”

“No!” Bellatrix shrieked as she pulled out of his embrace. “Narcissa does not think of anyone but herself. I don’t wish to hear any more.” She pushed past him, heading straight for their rooms. She would get changed, polish her wand, and then she would go out. If she killed every last living creature in her path, so be it. She wanted blood and gore, there’d been enough weakness.

“Bellatrix, what are you doing?” Rodolphus asked as followed her to the bedroom, watching her change into another dress.

“I’m going out, what does it fucking look like?” she snapped at him, throwing her cloak around her shoulders and fastening it at her neck. Her back remained to him, she wasn’t prepared to meet his eye. He would talk her out of it. He’d always known just want to say to make her change her mind no matter how stubborn she was being.

“I’ll come with you...”

“No!” she yelled, turning on her heel to glare at him. Meeting his eyes finally she bit her lip and held her ground, raising her wand to him. “Step aside and leave me be, Rodolphus.”

He drew his wand on instinct, assuming a duelling stance.

Bellatrix let out an ear piercing screech as her wand moved swiftly and without hesitation. She shot six spells in quick succession, forcing him backwards even as he blocked each and every one. “Fight!” she yelled at him, her wand snapping through the air almost like a whip as she attacked him. The more he defended himself and made no other move the more frustrated she became. She wanted him to react, she needed him to react, though somewhere buried deep in her mind she knew he could easily hold out longer than she could. He was calmer than she was, always had been. Much like the old adage of horses and water, she could make him draw his wand in this state but she couldn’t make him strike. Had her aggravation not got the better of her, she could have easily provoked him. Had her mind been clearer, she would have thought to take a different approach. As it was she hastened her attack, driving him back through the doors of their bedroom onto the landing.

Moving out on to the landing was a mistake. He knew it the moment he passed through the doorway. Her eyes darted down to the threshold and with lightening speed the large double doors were slammed in his face. “Bellatrix!” he rushed forward, grabbing at the handle and barrelling back into the room just as she disapparated with a loud crack. He dropped to his knees in their empty bedroom, letting his wand slip from his fingers. She would return when she was ready, he knew that, but it did not shake the ominous feeling that festered deep in his heart. It was not his wife who would return to him, his Bellatrix was broken beyond repair making way for something much more menacing. “Merlin, help the souls that cross her path.”


End file.
